What's Eating Spike?
by Nicolette134
Summary: Spike's acting strange and Icebox wants to know why. Set in high school. T just to be safe.


Spike knew he was acting weird. Icebox knew he was acing weird. The entire team, including coaches, knew he was acting weird. The question was, why?

He couldn't look at Icebox lately, let alone pass to her or tackle her like he usually did. A few years ago she would've cockily assumed he was scared of her, but since puberty hit even she has to admit he could easily take her on. He was twice her size, even the smallest guys on the Little Giants were these days, and they usually loved lording it over her. She didn't play on the team in any official capacity anymore, but she was at every practice, and it'd never been a problem 'til now. The only conclusion she come could to was that he didn't want to hurt her because she was a girl and that, she decided, was a total bullshit excuse. That's why, when he headed into the locker room midway through another argument with Junior, she followed him in.

He didn't notice her coming until she kicked him in the back of the knees, knocking him off balance.

"See," Icebox growled angrily, standing over him with her feet planted on either side of his upright body. He sat there rigidly as she fisted his shirt in one hand and yanked his face to an inch of hers, "I don't care if I am a girl or how huge you are; I thought we got over this 'Spike doesn't play with girls' BS.  
"We are," he confirmed, "You know we are. That's not the problem at all."  
"Well you're are going to tell me what your problem is, or I will beat it out of you," she returned, crossing her arms grumpily when he made no move to reply, "You've been so acting strange lately."  
"Don't know what you're talking about, babe," he shrugged, forcing a smile.

Icebox glared up at him and tackled him to throw him off-balance, "Stop avoiding the issue. I thought we were getting to be friends Spike, and now you can't even look at me!"  
He was flat on the ground beneath her, and she settled on his torso to land a few blows on his chest and face, aiming to get a response out of the broad boy. She stopped when he didn't react, and she straightened her back.  
He finally found it in himself to look at her, and found her frowning in concern. He took a deep breath, but said nothing. Icebox knew something was seriously wrong now.  
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, trying a different approach.

She place her hand flat on his chest, over his heart; he was breathing evenly but his heart was beating erratically. She bent her ear to confirm her concerns.  
As she did, his eyes began to travel downward, taking in the way her toned legs spread out on either side of him. Icebox had developed quite a bit since their Pee Wee days, and had grown long and lean, with strong muscles, but she certainly wasn't shaped like an Icebox anymore. _Stop it_ , he clenched his jaw, _Stop looking_.  
"You're flushed," she murmured, eyeing him some more, "Are you sick?"  
When she leaned forward to check his forehead temperature, his line of vision was altered and he was _definitely_ starting to feel hot.

Just then, Spike snapped. He couldn't take it anymore. He was probably having a psychotic break, but frankly he didn't care. He flipped them over in an instant and melded his frame to hers, pressing their hips together. Disoriented, Icebox's concerned frown became confused as she pushed against his shoulder.  
"What are you—"  
Spike silenced her with an open kiss, roughly claiming her lips. He knew she was going to kill him as soon as she came to her senses, and that Junior and the rest would follow suit as soon as they heard, but he couldn't stop. He kissed her lips and ran his hands up and down her slim waist, and he wished she would make him stop, because he couldn't.

At first Icebox was surprised when he had flipped their positions, and then she became uncertain when she noticed that his eyes were glazed over with—with— _something_ , and then she felt a myriad of confusing emotions when he started kissing her. She had slammed her fist into his chest at first, but the fight seeped out of her as she realized that his hands were exciting her and she caught herself kissing him back.  
"Tell me to stop, Icebox- Becky," Spike corrected himself in between frenzied kisses, "Becky, tell me to stop and I will."  
"You don't have to," she gasped into his mouth, not quite registering what she was saying or doing, "Don't."  
Her arms seemed to move of their own accord, and she wrapped them around his back and admired his muscles under her touch.

They parted for air and Spike moved his lips down to her neck, feeling the heat of Icebox's shallow breaths on the side of his face. His hands wandered lower and he gripped her hips as he gave a hard thrust of his hips, grunting as his jeans chafed against his growing arousal. He breathed heavily between his teeth as she thrusted into him this time, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his throat. She purred in response and he just about died on the spot.  
"Fuck," Spike cursed, pressing his forehead into the crook of Icebox's neck, body tense with pleasure but unable to ignore the growing sense of dread, at what he was doing, and how it would end. "Fuck, sorry, I don't know what I'm—"  
 _Goddammit,_ he thought to himself _, I'm so stupid, I ruined everything. Junior's gonna kill me; forget Junior, Becky's gonna kill me!_

"It's okay," Icebox said, wrapping her arms loosely around him and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay."  
Spike hadn't expected such a composed response to his unprecedented actions, but he said nothing and focused on keeping his shit together. He closed his eyes, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat begin to slow down, and waited until he was breathing steadily again before he spoke.  
Icebox shifted under him and Spike rolled off of her immediately, not wanting to risk any more hip movement before he ended up tearing her clothes off. Apparently everything they say about hormonal teenage boys is true, he was really struggling to control himself.

Icebox propped herself up on her elbow and eyed him seriously, "You gonna tell me what all this was about?"  
Spike met her gaze and blinked slowly, "I'm not sure I really know what that was about myself."  
Icebox nervously bit her lip. She wouldn't deny the fact that he was a good looking guy. When he wasn't snarling or smirking, he could be quite cute, Lord knows the other girls at school seemed to think so. She wasn't interested in Junior anymore, they were step-siblings now, after all, and there were times when she would catch herself looking at Spike the way she used to look at him. Sometimes her gaze would lingering on the way his smile would spread slowly across his face and quirk a little crookedly to one side.

There were times when she made more physical contact than necessary, there were _a lot_ of those times, if she was being honest. There were times when she would compare him to the the other boys on the team and at school, picking at the differences in their relationships and wondering— if there might be something there, between them.  
They stared at each other for a while, each considering their situation, before Spike hesitantly opened his mouth, "Look at me, Becky."  
That confused Icebox thoroughly, nobody called her Becky, "Why are you staring at me like that?"  
"I always stare at you like that," Spike sighed, knocking his head against the tile of the locker room floor, not caring how fully disgusting it was.

Icebox lips parted slightly as she studied his distressed expression and waited for him to continue.  
"I _always_ stare at you like that, I can't help it. I wish I could, but I can't. It's subconscious at this point," he said, "And it hurts to look at you. I mean, I feel it in my chest. Especially when we're fighting, or you're playing, and your eyes light up."  
Spike paused and couldn't keep an embarrassed flush from creeping up his neck, he didn't talk like this. Meanwhile, Icebox was still studying his features, trying to weigh her options and wondering if she was being punk'd or something.  
"Is that all?" she asked, "My eyes light up when we fight, so you kissed me? What am I supposed to say about that?"

"Yes," he answered, before shyly reconsidering, "No."  
"Wadda ya mean?" she was chewing on her lip now, she always did when she was nervous or confused, and he wished he could tell her how it drives him crazy.  
"I've had dreams about you," he hesitated, "Wet dreams, of you and me, and, honestly, that scares me."  
"Since when?" Icebox asked with a slight tremor to her voice.  
"A few weeks ago," he confirmed, and a heavy silence hung around them as Icebox contemplated this.  
Suddenly, Spike was consumed by shame. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, distraughtly, "I didn't mean to…"  
I didn't mean to mess us up, please don't hate me.

"Well, do you feel better now?" Icebox spoke up after a moment of silence, her bright eyes piercing into his.  
"…Yes?" he confirmed, unsure if that was reassuring to her or not.  
"Good," she said, finally, laying down beside him quietly.  
"Do you mind?" Spike asked uncertainly.  
"Mind what?" she asked.  
"That I feel this way," he grazed his fingers against hers, "about you."  
"…I don't know," she replied, not pulling away, "Give me some time to think, geez."  
She watched him as he moved to lean over her again.  
"Can I kiss you?" he asked in a whisper.  
Icebox swallowed thickly and nodded in response.

This time, when Spike kissed her, slowly and deliberately, she didn't even hesitate before kissing him back.


End file.
